


Dark Collective

by chokeproof



Category: The Breakfast Club (1985)
Genre: Hallucinations, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 13:17:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4566030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chokeproof/pseuds/chokeproof
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allison doesn't have easy nights</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark Collective

**Author's Note:**

> Im shit at titles and im sorry this is so short lmao.

The darkness constricts her like the heat does on a heavy June night. The weight of the empty air presses hard against her chest so much so that sleeping on her back would probably suffocate her. She thinks about it for a few moments. How long can she really hold her breath for? Ten. Twenty. Twenty five seconds. That’s all it would take and she would be gone. She would become part of the darkness just like everyone else eventually would. What would mom think? ‘It’s about time’. What about dad? 'Who?’. Right. There would be no difference. She was nothing more than a breeze that slipped through the cracked kitchen window to him. A series of unwanted goosebumps across his calloused skin.

She can’t feel her fingers. She can’t move them either. They’re stuck in perpetual limbo, curled into the starched sheets. The room smells metallic and it makes her head feel like it could turn to the left and float from her body, the residuals of what she was, leaking out like black smoke. Just like she would be, also joining the darkness. Her legs don’t exist. They’re there physically but right now they serve no purpose. She could dig her heel into the mattress and turn herself over. Then her legs would have done more than she ever could have. Served the community in a positive way. Offing her.

She thinks again, her eyes opening only to shut. There’s nothing in front of her not even a moon beam from between the blinds. She is utterly alone, lost on her own bed. The sweat on her brow burns her skin like acid, she feels them twitch. If not in pain, than out of annoyance from the volume of the silence. It’s like screaming, or the sound a radio makes when its unable to find a station. Static. It’s too much.

She turns over onto her back finally and the crushing load lowers onto her chest and down her ribcage. It wraps around her shoulders, slips down her t shirt, touches her damp chest. She knows not to make a sound. She knows no one will hear her. Then its around her stomach. It whispers to her, cutting through the silence.

'Good girl. Shhh.’

Her lower half is gone. Given way to the night time, lost without a fight. Then again, it was gone a long time ago. No use in denying that. But finally, it crawls up her neck. It laps at her jawline. Like a rush of water, it floods into her mouth. Fills her mouth, her throat, her lungs. She chokes against it and it jerks her whole body. Her limbs are quaking beyond her control, she can’t stop it it’s taking over-

“Allison.”

He’s here. Pressed against her without an inch of room to spare. One hand rests on her chest, one rests on her face, thumb rubbing her soft cheekbone. She’s sobbing. She can’t stop shaking. She tries to so hard but all she manages is a wretch. His hands are her swaddle and she the recovered infant from the curb.

“It’s okay.” He’s right this time. He found her first.

Her eyes finally open. His eyes are shut, his lashes cradle his cheeks, it’s almost fragile. He’s not asleep. She can’t look away, afraid she’ll lose him again. Lose him in the darkness, dousing his light.

But he is the cosmos. He watches over her. She’s safe with him.


End file.
